Guy's new speaker, selections of poetry and prose from the best writers in the English languageJoseph Guy 1852 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 74
Page 5
... fair mountain leave to feed , And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ? You cannot call it love : for , at your age , The hey - day in the blood is tame , it's humble , And waits upon the judgment : And what judgment Would step ...
... fair mountain leave to feed , And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ? You cannot call it love : for , at your age , The hey - day in the blood is tame , it's humble , And waits upon the judgment : And what judgment Would step ...
Page 16
... fair sun , and kill the envious moon , Who is already sick and pale with grief , That thou , her maid , art far more fair than she.— She speaks , yet she says nothing : what of that ? Her eye discourses : I will answer it.— I am too ...
... fair sun , and kill the envious moon , Who is already sick and pale with grief , That thou , her maid , art far more fair than she.— She speaks , yet she says nothing : what of that ? Her eye discourses : I will answer it.— I am too ...
Page 17
... fair Montague , I am too fond ; And therefore thou may'st think my ' haviour light : But trust me , gentleman , I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange . I should have been more strange , I must confess ...
... fair Montague , I am too fond ; And therefore thou may'st think my ' haviour light : But trust me , gentleman , I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange . I should have been more strange , I must confess ...
Page 18
... fair use , Revolts from true birth , stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice , being misapplied ; And vice sometime's by action dignified . Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence , and med'cine power ...
... fair use , Revolts from true birth , stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice , being misapplied ; And vice sometime's by action dignified . Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence , and med'cine power ...
Page 19
... ; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty , And made His Majesty the bawd to theirs . France is a bawd to Fortune , and king John SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 19 King John.
... ; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty , And made His Majesty the bawd to theirs . France is a bawd to Fortune , and king John SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 19 King John.
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Other editions - View all
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... Joseph Guy No preview available - 2016 |
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... No preview available - 2020 |
Common terms and phrases
Bassora beauty behold blood breath bright brittle glory Cæsar charms clouds Cold fearful courser dead dear death delight dost doth drachmas dread earth elocution eyes face fair FALSTAFF fame father fear fire flowers fool gentle give glory grace grave grief hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Hecat's Hecuba honour hope kind king labour light live look lord Lucilius Lycidas lyre Lysippus mind Muse nature ne'er never night noble numbers nymph o'er once OTHELLO pain passions peace Philippi pleased pleasure poor praise Priam pride prince Proteus Pyrrhus Rasselas rich round scene shade smile soft song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stream sweet tears tell tempest thee thine thing thou hast thought tongue trembling virtue voice Warren Hastings weep wild wind wings wonder younker youth
Popular passages
Page 60 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Page 356 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!
Page 101 - Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Page 298 - To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid. And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Page iv - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Page 6 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Page 297 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Page 102 - Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves; Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.